


The Peach Boy's Love

by marigorbital



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marigorbital/pseuds/marigorbital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Momo likes to buy junk, all sorts of junk. Nitori just wants to know... why all for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Peach Boy's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was originally supposed to be a small thing and it turned into an actual piece. Figured I might as well share it on here. These two are precious in my eyes, what can I say.
> 
> Cheers.

Honestly, _honestly,_ Momotarou just thought it was a cool idea.

And he freaking loved buying shit at the 100¥ store, so there was that.

But how did this all start, right. See, Nitori-senpai made the mistake of beginning to open up to Momotarou, which is something you shouldn’t do unless you are prepared to face the undying passion of the peach boy’s love. Fun fact: No one is prepared for the peach boy’s love. No one is prepared for Momo in general.

The phrase, _give the boy an inch and he will take a mile,_ applies so hard to Momotarou that before poor sweet little Aiichirou Nitori could realize he had made a grave mistake, the kraken that was Momo’s love had already been unleashed. There was no going back and dear god, there was so much _junk._

What was the trigger? Well, one time Nitori said, “I think ducks are cute.”

It doesn’t even matter when it happened or why Nitori even said it. He was probably looking at photos of ducklings on the internet or maybe he was feeding ducks actually in front of him or hell, maybe the guy was just thinking of ducks for no damn reason other than he thought ducks were cute. All that matters is that Momo heard this little tidbit about his senpai, marched right to the 100¥ store, and proceeded to buy every type of rubber ducky he could find. After buying, oh say, _twelve_ of them, Momo delicately organized them on Nitori’s desk and awaited approval.

Some people might say this was creepy; some people might say this was cute.

Nitori said, “Um, what am I supposed to do with all of these?”

He looked down at his desk, dumbfounded, merely observing each rubber duck and their respective costume. There was a cowboy duck, a devil duck, an alien duck, a zombie duck, a regular duck, a black duck, a glow in the dark duck, a polka dotted duck, a pink duck, a duck with a little cigar sticking out of its mouth, a ninja duck, and a duck with a top hat and monocle.

With such anticipation, Momo said, “Do you like them, Nitori-senpai?”

Immediately, Nitori had already determined the dapper duck to be his favorite, but still. He smiled, gathering them up off his desk as he admitted they were indeed adorable, and put them on the window sill, facing them outside. He figured the boy was trying to be friendly, and if anything, he could just pass these duckies off to his younger siblings, so it wasn’t a big deal. But this didn’t end with the duckies, and Nitori was a fool for even trying to believe this was end, if only. Fun fact: With Momo, the madness never ends. You will probably have to die first.

Then there was the time Nitori said, “I saw some kids blowing bubbles today.”

At first, Momo thought nothing of it because Nitori always observed others and wrote about it in his diary, but then Nitori continued, sealing his fate with, “I kind of miss blowing bubbles. So whimsical and fun.”

And you’re damn right Momo went to the 100¥ store and bought every bubble blowing contraption known to man. Even went so far as to _test_ every bubble wand he bought _inside_ their dorm room, blowing bubbles everywhere, blowing as many bubbles he possibly could as _fast_ as he possibly could before Nitori came back from showering so that he knew each purchase was a good one, blowing so many freaking bubbles that when Nitori did open the door, it looked like the Fizzy Lifting Drink bubble scene from _Willy Wonka_ —only with Momo on the ground, erratically waving bubble wands and shouting, “So whimsical and fun, right!”

“Wh—” Nitori stopped himself, feeling bubbles pop against his skin as he stood in awe of the bubble wonderland inside his dormitory. How was this even possible? Was Momo some sort of bubble blowing machine? A speed demon as a backstroke swimmer, could he windmill bubble wands with his arms, shooting bubbles like g-rated cannonballs into the air?

Some people might say this was obsessive; some people might say this was amazing.

Nitori popped bubbles with his fingers and giggled. This was something out of a storybook played out right before his eyes, a feat only his crazy kouhai could achieve, so he went along with it, figured bubbles were harmless and child-safe, and picked up a bubble wand for himself to use.

That is, until Rin noticed hordes of bubbles floating outside Momo and Nitori’s dorm room into the halls, one of which popped into his eye. Jesus Christ, who knew bubble soap stung like the rage of a thousand baby demons tugging at your tear ducts?

The bubbles stopped.

The junk purchases did not.

Nitori said he needed Post-It notes; Momo bought stacks of them, one might say a lifetime supply of them. Nitori saw cute cookie cutters on Pinterest and said he’d like to bake little flower and butterfly cookies; Momo bought flower and butterfly cookie cutters, despite the fact that there wasn’t a communal stove for Nitori to use. They went to this one café once and the straws used for the drinks were in the shape of hearts, and Nitori, ever absentminded and unaware that Momo was listening, always listening, to every damn thing Nitori-senpai ever said about things he liked—oh, poor sweet Aiichirou Nitori said he liked curly straws. And Momo bought every unconventional straw he could find in the 100¥ store.

Momo bought kites in all shapes, crossword puzzle books for all ages, a stuffed giraffe, towels with ducks on them, towels with fish on them, rubber snakes, rubber chickens, little bento boxes with pandas, decks of cards in different designs, every type of candy bar, cheap socks, matching socks, hairclips for girls. He bought off-brand chips in every flavor Nitori one time approved. He bought terrible sci fi novels written by authors no one had ever heard of. He bought hula hoops for each of them, jump ropes for each of them, bouncy balls for each of them. Yo-yos. Kazoos. Oddly shaped piggy banks, most of which weren’t pigs.

Fun fact: The people at the 100¥ store knew Momo by name and thought he was a hoarder. One person guessed he had a girlfriend, and in a way, he wasn’t totally wrong.

Momo bought so much stuff Nitori didn’t know where he got the money to afford of all this. So much stuff, Nitori was almost certain he definitely didn’t mention wanting _most_ of this. So much stuff, Nitori just often wondered _why._

Why did Momo go through all this trouble for him?

“Why?” he asked, looking up at Momo on the top bunk.

Because the fact was, despite living together, it wasn’t as if Nitori and Momo spoke all that often, just in tiny tidbits. Small moments of telling each other what they liked here and there, what they did for fun here and there. Momo hunted stag beetles and played with toy soldiers, knew everything about otters and backstroked like a champ. Cheap, little fun facts.

“Nitori-senpai!” Momo sat up on his bunk as he asked, “Could you turn off the lights?”

“Why do you buy…” Nitori gestured at everything around him. “…all of this…” All of his gifts. “…for me?”

And all Momo said was, “Could you turn off the lights?”

_What now_ , Nitori thought, reaching for the light switch. What could his crazy ass kouhai have bought now that involved him shutting off the lights? Putting him in the vulnerable position of being blinded by Momo’s tactics—and god, if any of those rubber snakes touched him, he’d scream. But Nitori braced himself, flicking the switch off, and gasped.

Above him on the ceiling were hundreds of glow-in-the-dark stars, spread out in various constellations. A galaxy within his reach. He stood there, once again in awe of the fantasies Momo had somehow managed to make come true, and murmured, “Momo-kun…”

One time, Nitori had said he wished his dreams would come true.

Some people might say plastic glow-in-the-dark stars aren’t dreams; some people might say this was beautiful.

Momo asked, “Do you want to look at the stars with me?”

And Nitori said, “Okay.”

When he lied next to Momo on the top bunk, it had dawned on Nitori how many worlds Momo had created. Post-It notes plastered over the walls with little words of encouragement and random factoids. Rubber toys strategically placed in certain corners of the room to serve as their own countries. Bubble wonderlands. Terrible sci fi plots. A galaxy above at an arm’s reach.

And still, he wondered, _why._

“I feel like I’m floating,” he whispered, lost under the stars.

“You know, Nitori-senpai.” Momo slipped his hand down to Nitori’s, clasping it. “When otters go to sleep, they hold hands in the water so they don’t float away from each other.”

“Momo-kun…”

“If you fall asleep, I won’t let you float away.” Momo’s grip tightened. “So you can keep dreaming, Ai.”

Before his eyes, Momo could make Nitori’s dreams come alive. Any wish, any silly desire. Because honestly, _honestly_ , Momo thought all of Nitori’s dreams were cool ideas. When Nitori opened up little by little, Momo wondered why no one noticed all the beautiful, strange things about his senpai. And most people would have told Momo he’s crazy, would have banned Momo from the 100¥ store, would have at least stolen his wallet for the sake of his bank account, but Nitori always went along, kept dreaming right along with him.

Maybe Nitori wasn’t prepared for the peach boy’s love, but he was always willing to join the ride.

Under the stars, dreamed Momo’s Ai.

The peach boy’s love.


End file.
